What Once Was Lost
by La Bella Figura
Summary: CURRENTLY ON HIATUS. I do not desire death, but neither do I fear it. I will not die until I finish what I've started. I will protect this country and the people that gave me shelter from the threat that follows me, and I will ensure that they remain safe. Because they're all I have left. CURRENTLY ON HIATUS.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone and welcome to the first chapter of "What Once Was Lost"! My name is La Bella Figura and I will be your guide as we join Rysta on her journey throughout Skyrim and (eventually) all of Tamriel.**

**This story will encompass the main quest line up to a certain point before deviating into entirely new territory. I haven't decided what point that will be yet, but I'm working on ironing those kinks out. The Thieves Guild and Companions will make an appearance, as well as the Dawnguard, in passing.**

**Please review and let me know what you think- this is my first story on here and I'd love to hear your thoughts, good or bad.**

**I'll stop talking now. Enjoy!**

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

_Solitude. There's blood. Blood everywhere. On the streets, on the walls of the buildings. On my husband. On our daughter._

"_Vampires!"_

_Chaos. A knife. Hot, unendurable pain. Screams. Someone shouting my name._

"_RYSTA!"_

_Darkness. So much darkness. Unending, ever expanding, all encompassing. I hate it. I don't want to be here. I shouldn't be here. I want out. Let me out! Out!_

_OUT!_

I jolted awake, my breaths coming out in quick gasps and my body shaking. That dream again. Oh Divines how I hated that dream. I blinked away the sting of impending tears and raised my head, finding myself on a cart being driven to who knows where. Glancing around, I saw that I was joined by three other men, all apparent Nords, though one was dressed far nicer than the others. Gagged, too. Wait. I think I knew that face…

"Oh, you're finally awake."

I turned my head to face the blonde Nord sitting directly across from me. A Stormcloak, if I were to judge him by his armor. I blinked, my lips lifting ever so slightly. I hadn't gained the mental stability to speak just yet, but even this small response seemed to encourage him.

"You were trying to cross the border, right?"

I opened my mouth to say that, no, I was actually trying to get back into Skyrim to avoid seeing my extended "family" and got tangled up in the fight because my tunic happened to be blue, but he cut me off without even sparing me a glance, his eyes trained on the road – or was it the gagged man? – behind us.

"Then you walked right into the Imperial ambush, same as us. And that thief over there," he added, like the raggedly-dressed man next to him was of little consequence. I snapped my mouth closed, deciding it would be better to stay out of this conversation. At least until I had a full understanding of what was going on.

"Damn you, Stormcloaks!" The thief retorted, his face twisted in anger. "Skyrim was fine until you came along." He looked down and I could just barely hear him utter "Empire was nice and lazy" before raising his head again. "If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell by now!" I rolled my eyes at the two men, who looked like they were trying to inflict physical harm on each other by thought alone. I cleared my throat, the sound catching both of their attentions.

"You there, Breton," the thief said, his dirt-streaked face turning towards mine. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants." I scoffed, rolling my eyes but silently thanking the Imperials for leaving my cowl in place, covering my hair and ears. No one needed to know my secret, and no one ever would. Not if I could help it.

"Not much we can do about it now, huh?" I responded, happy that my voice came out relatively clear and strong, despite its dryness. I lifted my arms, showing off the cuffs the Imperials had placed us all in. I frowned as I noticed the redness around my wrists. My skin was chafing. How long had we been in this cart?

"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, _thief_," the blonde added, not a little malice coloring his voice.

"Shut up back there," the driver hushed us, and we all sank into a melancholic quiet, each of us pondering what fate our carriage was driving us to. It was a few miles before anyone spoke again.

"What's wrong with him?" The thief suddenly broke the silence, nodding towards the gagged man. The blonde's eyes seemed to spark with anger.

"Watch your tongue! You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King!" My eyes bugged. I _knew _I'd seen his face somewhere- this was the Jarl of Windhelm and the murderer of High King Torygg, according to some. Others, like the blonde, believed Torygg's death had been the result of a fair duel. I thought the whole dispute was ridiculous and a result of dual fear and ignorance. Both Nords and Imperials were extremely pigheaded, so they resorted to violence where a meeting between the two factions could easily solve the problem. Or so I thought at the time.

I quit that line of thought after a few seconds. Wait. If the Imperials captured the leader of the rebel faction, then they'd immediately…

Shit.

"Ulfric?" The thief responded. "Oh Gods." Ah, it seemed he'd caught on, too. The thief began to panic, bowing his head. Praying to whatever gods he worshiped, I assumed. I turned towards the Stormcloak.

"Where are they taking us?" I asked, my voice a tad higher than normal. The soldier's eyes caught mine, his expression full of sadness and sympathy.

"I don't know where we're going," he answered, his voice resigned, "but Sovngarde awaits." This seemed to agitate the thief even more, for he started to mumble and rock back and forth.

"No, no! This can't be happening; _this can't be happening!_"

I turned towards the front of the cart as it crested a hill, and a small city, Helgen I remember it being called, came into view. It was a small town, but gated and well-protected. A wonderful place to live.

Or host an execution.

The Stormcloak and thief seemed to put aside their differences in the face of death, for they were discussing what towns they were from. I tuned them out until the soldier turned to me.

"What of you, Breton? From where do you hail?" I swiveled my head back towards the blonde.

"I'm originally from Bruma but I claim residence in Solitude." _Or I did, anyway,_ I silently added, not bothering to delve into my history when so little time was left.

"General Tullius, sir! The Headsman is waiting!"

That got our attention. The thief began muttering again while Ulfric and Blondie stared straight at the floorboards of the cart. I however looked up, my back straight and head high, just like my mother had taught me, and made eye contact with Tullius.

I knew this man in passing from living in Solitude for the better part of a decade. He and some of his soldiers would occasionally come in to the Winking Skeever after a grueling day of military drills to unwind a bit. Tullius obviously recognized me as well, for his eyes widened before quickly averting, his concentration focusing on the carts rolling through the gate.

"All right," he responded, pointedly looking over my head, probably to Ulfric. "Let's get this over with."

The thief by this point had pretty much completely lost it, pleading for rescue not only from the Divines but some Daedra as well. I slouched back down on the bench, my proper sitting posture obviously useless in this situation. "The only mercy the Divines are going to grant is a quick death," I told him, not unkindly. The poor man was understandably panicked, but he had to get it through his thick Nord skull that there just wasn't a way out of this. It would take something extreme, borderline miraculous, to stop our executions.

I wasn't exactly amenable to dying, as I still felt I had left much undone, but the prospect didn't scare me. After all, I'd died before. I even had the scar on my stomach to prove it. No, this was just a second death, one more permanent than the last.

"Look at him. General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him."

I had been fine until the word 'Thalmor' was mentioned. Now it was my turn to panic. I followed the soldier's line of sight and sure enough, there stood three Thalmor members, dressed head-to-toe in the traditional black Inquisitor robes. I quickly looked away, raising my hands to my cowl and lowering it down to cover more of my face. The blonde looked over at me, quirking a brow, but said nothing besides "damn elves". After all, why learn the secrets of someone who's going to be dead in the next few minutes?

The carts slowly made their way through the town, passing houses and towers alike. The soldier was saying how he'd had a crush on a meadmaker from here. Apparently her juniper berry mead was famous along this part of the country. I let the words float past me, nothing really catching my eye until I saw a mother trying to get her son into their house.

"But where are they taking them, mom?" he asked, his eyes roving over the carts until they caught mine. "And why is a girl there?" His mother looked over at me, her eyes surprised for a moment before turning sad. "Get inside, Haming," she instructed, her husband following the boy inside and shutting the door behind them. I closed my eyes and buried my head in my knees, willing myself not to cry. A mother was there to protect her children from the harshness of the world and to comfort and console them when they discovered it on their own. I had lost that privilege years ago and I knew I'd never have it again. It's funny. I hadn't really mourned that particular loss until just now. I guess imminent death has a way of making you face your darkest fears and emotions. All your 'what if's and 'if only's.

The carriage rolled to a stop and I looked up, blinking away tears for the second time today.

"What? Why are we stopping?" The thief asked nervously. The blonde chuckled darkly.

"Why do you think?" He quipped. "End of the line. Let's go."

Both carriages began unloading their "passengers", everyone except for me and the thief being either Stormcloak soldiers or the Jarl of Windhelm.

"Wait, stop! We're not rebels!" The thief pleaded with the Imperial soldiers we passed. No one even spared him a glance.

"Face your death with courage, thief," the blonde chastised, although I'm pretty sure he knew it was futile since the horse thief kept rambling on about how it was a mistake.

The prisoners were then documented and checked off a list. I discovered that the blonde soldier's name was Ralof and the thief's was Lokir, although the necessity of that knowledge was short lived as the Nord suddenly ran off in an ultimately futile attempt to escape execution. The captain, an intimidating Imperial woman if I'd ever seen one, called for archers. Lokir was dead not thirty seconds later.

One by one, each prisoner's name and hometown were read aloud. It was after these names were called that the hulking Nord Imperial standing next to the captain told me to come forward. I strode towards them both with all the grace and confidence I could muster, staring straight ahead.

"Who are you?" the large Nord asked.

I sighed quietly before raising my hands to my cowl and lowering it so my head was revealed. I heard one or two gasps and flinched internally. I knew what they saw: a Breton woman in all aspects, save for the diagonal angle of her Altmer-inherited eyes and the unusually long ears that poked out between strands of shoulder length, silvery white hair.

"I am Rysta Vinius, of Solitude." I glared at each Imperial soldier in turn, daring them to say something in rebuttal, even sparing the shell-shocked Thalmor a glance, bold in the face of death. It was the overly-muscled Nord who broke the sudden silence.

"You've picked a bad time to come home," he told me. Like I didn't already know that. "Captain," he said, turning towards the woman. "What should we do? She's not on the list."

I will admit that for a brief, fleeting moment I believed I was going to be released. My hopes were shot down almost immediately by the captain who said I would just be executed with the rest of the prisoners. The Nord returned his gaze to me, his face sympathetic. "Where would you like your remains to be sent?" he asked. I eyed the man, looking him over. He seemed honorable enough. He'd probably follow through on my subsequent request.

"Back to Solitude, where my husband and daughter are," I responded. If it was possible, the soldier's face saddened even more. He nodded solemnly, muttering an apology before writing my information down and motioning me towards the gathered prisoners. I took my place among them, in between Ralof and another soldier whom I did not know.

General Tullius then approached Ulfric Stormcloak, once again ignoring my presence. Coward. The general went on to explain what the Jarl's offense had been, but in a way that made me think of a father scolding a wayward child. It was then that a screeching sound echoed over the mountains and reached our ears.

Everyone, myself included, looked up, searching for the source of the noise. People began to mutter, asking what it could have been. General Tullius waved them off. "It's nothing," he told them. "Carry on."

The captain behind Tullius then instructed the priestess in attendance to give us our last rites. The woman wasn't even a sentence in to it when the soldier to my left walked forward.

"Let's just get this over with," he told them. "I haven't got all morning!"

"As you wish," the captain responded, pushing him on to the block. The headsman raised his axe and brought it down. I shut my eyes a split second before it made contact, preferring to not see the man's head separate from his body.

"Next, the half-elf!"

My eyes popped open just as another screech filled the skies. Again, we all looked up, although this time the distraction was short lived. I looked over at Ralof, fear and sadness etching both of our features. I slowly made my way over to the block and laid myself down. My neck and the collar of my tunic were immediately soaked in the still-warm blood of the Nord who'd died before me, and it took everything I had not to throw up on the executioner's boots. Although that probably would have been a funny last statement to the Empire.

I laid my head on the block and stared defiantly at the headsman, when something flew by behind him, out from the mountains. I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise.

"What in Oblivion is _that?_" someone, I think General Tullius, cried. No one could answer him as the giant winged creature swooped down and landed on the tower in front of us. Imperial and Stormcloak alike staggered backward at the tremor its landing caused. It paused for a moment, as if assessing the situation, then opened its mouth and released a stream of fire.

It was suddenly chaos. The executioner was hit by falling debris from the first tower, so I quickly got up and followed Ralof inside a second one across the road. As I made my way through the door, one word kept repeating, both in my head and out of the mouths of other terrified people:

_Dragon._


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again everyone! I am so pleased to see that people seemed to enjoy the first chapter of WOWL. I do want to address something really quick before we begin. ShiftySpaceCow, in their review of the previous chapter, pointed out that I made it sound like Rysta was a new race. This is a valid question, but not the case. Rysta's mother is an Altmer and her father is a Breton, and since both of these races tend to have pointy ears, genetics decided to give our dear heroine that characteristic in spades. Her parentage will be described a bit in this chapter. Thanks for the review! :)  
**

**I'd also like to thank MadamHyde and Tae-Kwon-Do Dragon for their invaluable advice, reviews, and support. There's no way I would have started writing this without y'alls help and encouragement, so thanks a bunch, ladies!**

**With that said, here's chapter two!**

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the lower lighting of the tower once Ralof and I were inside, but what I saw made me gag.

Blood covered the floor, dyeing the pale stones a deep crimson color. I followed their trail to two Stormcloak soldiers, both lying on the ground. I could see where debris had fallen on one. His left arm was barely more than mutilated flesh attached to his shoulder. The other, a woman, fared little better. He face was pale and she gasped for breath, her hand covering a puncture wound in her chest.

I mourned their loss, for there was indeed nothing that could be done, and turned back to face Ralof only to find him speaking with Ulfric Stormcloak in hushed tones.

"But what _is_ that thing?" Ralof demanded. "Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric eyed him a moment, solemn and calm amidst the screams of terror and pain.

"Legends don't burn down villages," he told the man before going over to the dying soldiers. Ralof grabbed my arm and dragged me up the winding staircase that went around the inside of the tower.

We had just made it to the second landing when the exterior wall burst open, debris covering the rest of the stairs and blocking our way out. Time seemed to slow as we came face to face with the dragon, the cause of all this destruction. The three of us studied each other for a moment. The dragon's snout was long, smoke rising out of his nostrils like chimneys, and his eyes were orbs of husky red. His entire body was covered in black spines, and his head was easily as big as me three times over.

The moment of study passed, and I was tugged backwards just as the dragon opened his mouth and released another unbearably hot burst of flame. I looked up at Ralof and murmured my thanks. He nodded before nudging me towards the ledge the dragon had left in his wake.

"See that inn on the other side?" he asked, pointing towards the second floor of a building just ahead of us. "Jump through the roof and keep going. We'll follow when we can!" Without even giving me a warning, I suddenly found myself being pushed. I landed on the inn's floor harshly, my ankle twisting, but I only stumbled for a second before making my way to an opening in the floor. I dropped down again, landing more gently this time, and stepped through a hole in the wall directly ahead of me.

I coughed as heavy smoke filled the air, bringing my still-bound hands up to my mouth. I suddenly found myself encased in someone else's arms, covering me as we made our way towards a grouping of boulders that were out of the way of most of the flames and smoke.

"Just run towards me!"

The shout brought my head up. It was the Imperial soldier Nord, the one who'd promised to take my remains home. He was yelling at a little boy. The same child I'd seen being forced inside by his parents when we'd first arrived. The young boy was cowering underneath some fallen beams, isolated and easy pickings for a dragon.

The next thing I knew, I was running towards the child, dodging falling debris as I went. I could hear the soldier's cry of "Haming!" as I stopped next to the boy, dropping to my knees so we met at eye level.

"Your name is Haming?" I asked, searching his tear- and soot-streaked face. He nodded slowly, both of us ignoring the chaos around us momentarily.

"You're the woman from the cart," he pointed out. I smiled. "That's right," I told him. "My name's Rysta. I think we need to be over there, but I've hurt my ankle; do you think you could lead me back to where that soldier is?" Haming looked over my soldier.

"To Hadvar?" Ah, so that was Muscles' name. I smiled again, nodding. Haming considered me a moment before grabbing onto my handcuffs and quickly guiding me back to the soldier and a second man, who I assumed had been the one to lead me away from the smoke. Hadvar looked incredibly relieved when the boy got back to him.

"Good job; you did great." He told Haming. I looked back at the Imperial soldier and he gave me a grateful nod. A second later, the ground trembled again. The dragon was facing us, opening his mouth.

"_Everyone get back!_" Hadvar cried as we all pressed against the natural stone wall behind us. We'd just hidden behind the rocks when the dragon's fury was unleashed. Hadvar cursed.

"Gunnar! Watch the boy!" The older man with us nodded and the soldier then turned to me. "Still alive, prisoner?" I quirked an eyebrow.

"Apparently."

He shot me a look. "Well, keep close to me if you want to stay that way. I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." I wanted to say that mounting a defense was rather futile at this point, noting the complete destruction of the once peaceful town, but I held my tongue. Being witty was not necessary right now, no matter how accurate the statement may have been. So instead I just nodded, trying to keep his brown and red armor in my line of sight.

We'd managed to evade most of the dragon's subsequent attacks and I only got singed a little by a flaming, falling support beam. All in all, we were doing okay.

Hadvar and I were almost to the keep doors when we ran into Ralof. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement before turning towards the Imperial soldier, who demanded to know where he was going.

"We're escaping, Hadvar," Ralof explained, motioning for me to join him. I quickly made my way over as he continued. "You cannot stop us this time."

The soldier looked at us both, a frown marring his features. "Fine," he conceded. "But may Sovngarde take you both!" With those parting words, Ralof and I separated from Hadvar and made our way into the keep.

We closed the heavy wooden door behind us, barring it shut. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it out," I said softly, the sudden reprieve from all the screams making my ears ring. The Stormcloak looked at me, his brow furrowing and giant Nord shoulders hunching.

"Was… Was that really a dragon? Is this truly the end of days?" I couldn't answer him, for indeed I did not know. We merely stared at each other for a few moments before Ralof noticed my wrists were still bound. "Here," he said, taking the leather straps apart and breaking my binds. "We might need to fight our way out, so search for a weapon. There's bound to be a few in here."

Sensing that the poor man needed a moment to collect himself, I did as he asked. The room was dark for the most part, so it was slow going, but after sifting through the room for a few minutes, ignoring the swords and axes I found, I did eventually locate a small iron dagger, perfect for my stature. I loved being a combination of Breton and Altmer most of the time. If I'd chosen to study in Winterhold, I'd probably be one of the more powerful mages there. But with the strong magicka ability came a serious lack of physical strength. I could not swing a sword without exhausting myself, and wearing heavy armor was completely out of the question. So I stuck with daggers and lighter protection.

After searching the room and finding no light armor, I returned to Ralof, who, after quirking an eyebrow at my weapon choice led me through to another room, unlocking the gate leading up to it with a key he'd found on the floor. We there discovered two more Stormcloak soldiers, both dead. I noticed that one of them was encased in leather armor, still in wearable condition. I looked at the blond Nord.

"May I…?"

He heaved a heavy sigh. "Might as well," he responded. "It's not like she'll need it anymore."

Ralof looked away as I disrobed myself and removed the deceased Stormcloak's armor, swapping out our clothing. I looked at the woman I was taking clothes from and noticed how young she looked. She had to be barely over twenty, much younger than my own thirty five years. And now she was dead in a keep underneath a destroyed city, never to be buried properly. The thought of her fate saddened me.

I brushed these considerations away as I strapped the pieces together. I was lucky that the woman and I were similar in size. Everything seemed to fit fairly well. Even her boots clasped around my feet and legs comfortably. I put her leather helmet on last, tucking the ends of my ears underneath the cap. Once I was finished, I coughed to let Ralof know that we were both completely covered again. He turned back around, eyeing me.

"It's a bit big," he said, reaching to tighten the leather straps keeping the breastplate in place, "but it'll do for now."

We made our way over to another door and I reached to grab the knob, but we both were shocked to find it opening seemingly of its own accord. Ralof and I backed up, drawing our sword and dagger respectively, and watched as the door opened to reveal three Imperial soldiers. The five of us stared at one another for a moment in shock before Oblivion broke loose. Two of the Imperial soldiers ran at Ralof, immediately engaging him in combat. I faced my own opponent, a heavily armored, war hammer-wielding Imperial. Fantastic.

The man came at me, his hammer slung behind him, poised to strike. I jumped out of the way of his attack, the head of the weapon instead hitting a table that had been behind me. Before he could recover, I ran at the Imperial and slipped my fingers under his helmet, flipping it off of his head and exposing his face and neck. The heavy metal clattered loudly to the ground and I glanced over at Ralof to see that he'd already dispatched one soldier and looked to be just about finished with the other.

My momentary distraction almost became a fatal one as I looked back towards my own adversary, who by now had recovered and was within lethal range.

"For the Empire!" He cried, bringing the hammer down. I had a momentary flashback of the executioner from earlier, but the memory was quickly forgotten.

Having nowhere else to go, I leaned into the attack, my dagger aimed at the Imperial's throat. The pole of his hammer slammed into my shoulder the same second my knife plunged into his neck. We both collapsed to the ground, dropping our weapons, although I was glad to see that I at least was still alive, despite the searing pain emanating from my left shoulder.

I blinked and suddenly Ralof was there, studying my injury. I looked around to notice that both of his opponents were dead. We sat quietly for a few minutes, both of us catching our breath as we sat in a pool of our enemies' blood. It seemed like an eternity before he spoke.

"Your collar bone's broken," he told me, pressing down on a particularly sensitive spot, making me hiss. "You wouldn't happen to know any Restoration magic, would you? I don't have any healing potions on me."

"I do," I responded, calling up the magic into my fingertips. I placed my right hand over my shoulder and gently massaged the damaged area, fiery bolts of pain slowly fading into an ignorable ache. Rolling my left shoulder after a few minutes and feeling nothing more than slight stiffness, I got to my feet and retrieved my dagger from the dead Imperial's throat, wiping the blood off with an exposed piece of his tunic.

Ralof and I continued down the pathway the Imperials had come from, picking up healing potions and gold coins as we came across them. I even found a spell book at one point. I tucked it into a knapsack I'd procured, deciding to give it a read later. We continued along in companionable silence for a while when he suddenly asked me where I'd learned to fight.

"You're no professional," he told me, "but you're also not without training."

"I learned to fight in Riften," I answered immediately, opening a barrel and sifting through its contents. "After the vampire attacks in Solitude happened nine years ago, I relocated and spent a couple of years studying under the people who support and protect a very influential resident there." I decided not to elaborate on my time with the Thieves' Guild. That situation had gotten messier the longer I stayed and I'd left as soon as matters had been resolved, although I did pop in from time to time. My good friend Brynjolf now ran the show, and quite successfully, too.

"And your husband and daughter relocated with you?"

Ouch. That was not the follow-up question I'd expected. It was also one I didn't intend on explaining.

"No, they didn't."

Ralof seemed to accept my purposefully vague answer and said nothing more on the matter. By now we'd made our way out of the keep proper and into some caverns, where even more Imperials lay in wait. We, along with another Stormcloak we'd run into along the way, took them out with us receiving only minor bumps and bruises.

The three of us continued going through the caves, passing through a nest of Frostbite spiders in the next cavern. Luckily the ones we fought were juveniles, so they weren't incredibly hard to dispatch. Our tagalong Stormcloak, whose name turned out to be Sonja, was a great help in fighting them off. The three of us made quiet conversation as we moved through the caverns and tunnels, marveling over the appearance of the dragon and what on Nirn that meant for us.

"It's the end of days, I tell you!" Ralof insisted, handing us each an apple and a rabbit leg that we'd taken from the keep earlier that day. "We're going to walk outside and see nothing but fire and ash."

Sonja was a little more optimistic. "We'll be fine and Skyrim will be fine. You obviously didn't read the prophecy when you were younger," she snapped back, taking a bite of her apple.

"Of course I did, Sonja. Anyone who's ever attended school has."

"Whoa. Wait," I interrupted the two of them. "Prophecy? I've never heard of this. What's it about?"

Sonja and Ralof swapped a look before the woman turned to me. "The legend and prophecy of the _Dovahkiin_, or Dragonborn, is an old one. Some people attribute its appearance to the Elder Scrolls while others claim it came from the Akaviri."

"You sure know a lot of details," Ralof told her. She smiled, taking another bite of her apple and chewing slowly.

"My sister has an insatiable appetite for reading," she explained. "Our parents were never very interested in what she had to say, so a lot of her knowledge was given to me instead."

"So, what exactly does the prophecy say?" I asked, attempting to get Sonja back on track.

"I don't remember the exact wording, but it was something along the lines of 'at the end of time, in the wake of the World Eater, the wheel will turn upon the last Dragonborn', or something to that effect."

"And this dragon that's appeared can be nothing but a world eater!" Ralof maintained. "The only thing we're missing is a gods-damned Dragonborn."

The three of us continued on our way after finishing up our rather meager meal. Ralof and Sonja bantered back and forth as we went along, discussing whether this truly was the end of all days or not. I found myself wondering the same thing.

Time passed endlessly as we journeyed through the cave, our hopes of getting out diminishing the longer we found ourselves underground. There wasn't anything else to fight, either. Our biggest problem had been the frostbite spiders, and that had been hours ago. I couldn't even feel my feet anymore.

"Are we ever gonna get out of here?" I complained to no one in particular. My two companions seconded my protest.

"I'd welcome some fire and brimstone if it meant we were out of this thrice-damned tunnel!" Sonja added, sighing loudly. "At least we'd be able to-"

"Ssshhh!" Ralof hushed us, suddenly crouching and hiding behind a boulder. Sonja and I followed the man's line of sight before we too crouched. For not even a hundred feet from us lay a bear, sleeping.

"What should we do?" I asked, really hoping we could avoid another fight. I was exhausted, my earlier adrenaline almost completely gone.

"I'd rather not fight that thing," Ralof said, giving voice to my thoughts. "Let's see if we can sneak past it."

So the three of us ever so slowly made our way around the bear. We'd almost gotten completely out of the bear's area when Sonja – poor Sonja – tripped over a rock and crashed into Ralof who in turn fell on top of me, our armor clanking together quite loudly.

And suddenly the bear was awake, angry, and running towards us. Ralof and I managed to separate ourselves from the tangle of limbs and armor, both of us drawing our weapons in preparation to fight. Sonja attempted the same, but she could barely stand on the foot she'd tripped with. It was probably twisted.

Ralof and I stepped in front of her as protection and we traded blows with the bear, injuring it grievously. But that was when we made a fatal mistake. I had stabbed the bear in the thigh, attempting to sever the muscles, and the giant animal had turned on me. Ralof went out of its line of sight and stabbed it in the shoulder to get its attention away from me and give me time to recover my stance. But the two of us had separated, leaving Sonja to defend herself from the ground between us. The bear mistook Ralof's attack as Sonja's, and swiped its giant paw across her face, one claw dragging itself across her neck.

I can't remember who screamed first or who delivered the killing blow to the bear, but what I do remember is holding the poor woman's unconscious form in my arms, desperately trying to heal the extensive damage while Ralof attempted to force potions down her throat. I drained my magicka to almost dangerous levels trying to resuscitate Sonja, but to no avail. An artery had been cut when the bear had clawed at her, and there had been little I could have done even if I had possessed the proper healing abilities.

I don't remember starting to cry, either, but the next thing I knew, I was clinging to Ralof's armor, my head buried in his shoulder as deep, heavy sobs escaped me. The poor man did his best to comfort me, patting and rubbing my back in turns, much like a parent would with a child. That thought made me cry even harder and soon it wasn't just about Sonja. It was about the dragon, the destruction of a small town, my almost-execution, that stupid dream, everything.

We sat there for what was probably the better part of an hour, my sobs eventually winding down to gasps, then to hiccups. Once I was finally out of tears, Ralof helped me take Sonja's body over to a stream that ran through this part of the cave and we washed the drying blood off of her skin. We then placed the body on the ground, Ralof closing the woman's hands over the hilt of her downturned sword which rested on top of her torso, the proper burial position for a fallen soldier.

Nothing was said for a few minutes as we stood there silently, each of us running the past few hours through our heads.

"Thank you," I said to Ralof suddenly, breaking the horrible, pain-filled silence that had consumed us. I wasn't even sure what I was thanking him for. He looked over at me, a very slight smile on his face as he placed a hand on my shoulder.

"You're welcome."

The two of us then gathered up the items we'd dropped in the fight and stepped through into the next tunnel, leaving the bodies of Sonja and the bear behind.

What seemed like days but could only have been a few minutes later, we spied the exit. It was a small sliver of light at first, but as we drew closer, it grew brighter and a cold gust of wind brushed past us. Ralof and I blinked at the suddenly intense sunlight, our eyes accustomed to the heavy darkness of the cave. Once our eyes adjusted, we raced to the exit, only stopping once we were outside. The bracing wind that whipped around us was welcome, if a bit cold, and the view of the mountains ahead of us was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

"No fire and brimstone," Ralof muttered, sadness lining his features. We then looked at each other, our depressed demeanors turning into smiles which then slowly grew until we both burst into crazed, uncontrollable laughter. I even fell to my knees. I couldn't believe it.

We'd made it out of Helgen.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, so I think I love you guys. There have been 109 views for this story and in 13 different countries. Plus I got two more reviews! Many thanks to OppasYeobo and MadamHyde!**

**Not much (read: absolutely no) action this chapter, but we do get lots of information from our dear Rysta! Riverwood is in this chapter, and expect a more few familiar faces as we hit chapter four. We'll be in Whiterun the next go around.**

**Enjoy and don't forget to review!**

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

We hadn't taken three steps beyond the cave when we heard the dragon's screech. Ralof grabbed my shoulders – I was suddenly very glad I'd healed myself earlier – and hid us both behind a rock.

"Get down!"

I peered out from behind the boulder, watching as the giant black body slowly flew away, back towards the mountains. I released a breath I didn't know I'd been holding as soon as the dragon disappeared behind some clouds far in the distance.

"Looks like he's gone for good this time," Ralof said, his gaze searching the horizon for any sign of the dragon's return. I tapped his arm before starting to walk away.

"Yes, well, I'd rather not stick around to see if he comes back," I replied, starting down the path ahead of us. I heard him jog until he caught up with me, our footsteps the only sound to be heard for a good few minutes.

"Where are we?" I finally asked, my normally excellent sense of direction failing me. I blamed it on the stress of the day.

"Hmm, based on Bleak Falls Barrow, the ruin on that mountain across from us," he pointed towards giant arches that stuck out of the side of the peak, ones I'd failed to notice upon us first getting out of the cave, "and how far out of Helgen we are, I'd say Riverwood is the closest town. Probably a couple hours out by foot."

Riverwood. I'd been there quite a bit when I was younger. Sorex and I had been good friends with the lumberjack there and had used her mill to supply the wood we needed to work on the house we were building at the time. I hadn't been there in years.

"There used to be a woman there named Gerdur." I said as I stopped to pick some blue mountain flowers, putting them into my pack. I would need to make some health potions if we were going to be travelling more and I didn't want to spend what little gold I'd found inside the keep. "She helped me and my husband build our house a few years back. Even gave us a good price on the wood since we bought so much." I finished my picking to notice Ralof staring at me, a smile on his face. I eyed him, confused. "What?"

"Two things. First, I think that's the most you've spoken since I met you," he said, chuckling. I rolled my eyes. "And secondly, Gerdur happens to be my sister. I have no doubt she'll be willing to help you again, especially after today." It was my turn to smile as we continued down the well-worn footpath. I'd remembered Gerdur telling me of her younger brother once and now that I knew who he was, I could see the strong family resemblance. Both had prominent noses and full lips, as well as wide, strong shoulders.

"You know," Ralof said, interrupting my thoughts, "The Stormcloaks are recruiting in Windhelm. I've seen you fight. You're good and would make an excellent soldier. We could use someone like you." His eyes were hopeful as he turned his head to face me. I sighed, shifting the weight of my pack.

"Ralof, I'm not a Nord and this is not my fight. Besides, this war is pointless and will serve no purpose other than to end the lives of twice as many Nords as any other conflict. Can't you just… team up with the Empire to take down the Thalmor? They seem to be the biggest threat here."

The hulking Nord stopped and stared, mouth agape. His face grew angry. "This isn't your fight? How long have you lived in Skyrim? Tell me."

I averted my eyes. "I lived here for nine years before I left for Cyrodiil again."

"So, almost a decade. And have you not seen the oppression the Empire has caused? The banning of Talos worship? The stealing away of innocent people in the middle of the night? The public executions?"

We were walking again, slower this time. "You know good and well that the Empire, if it was as strong as it used to be, would not have allowed any of that to happen. What you just listed are all things the Thalmor have either had their hand in or are responsible for directly." I stared at him. "Besides," I added. "If I joined the Stormcloaks, it would just give the Thalmor one more reason to want me dead."

That seemed to snap him out of his revolutionary thoughts. "When we were on the cart heading to the block, you panicked when I mentioned them and covered your face when you saw their soldiers. Why?"

We'd stopped at a cluster of standing stones, the Guardian Stones. I gazed at the three constellations carved into the rock: Warrior, Thief, and Mage. I laid my hand on the Warrior stone, praying for strength. Warmth ran through my blood for a moment before receding, leaving me with a feeling of contentment.

"My mother, Irinwe, is sister to Ancano, one of the Thalmor agents stationed here. She fell in love with my father, Gaban, a Breton, almost four decades ago. Well, Altmer families, especially those among the inner Thalmor circles, are very strict on keeping a pure bloodline, so they said no to their marriage. Shortly after this decision was made, my parents ran away and eloped. Mother never looked back. Her family discovered some years later that she and her husband had fled to Bruma and had a child, almost grown."

Ralof eyed me as we continued walking, his gaze penetrating. "That was you."

I nodded. "I was twenty when Bruma was attacked by the Thalmor. It was my first time seeing death and destruction, for we had lived a fairly quiet life up until that point. Everything was destroyed- the Chapel of Talos, the homes, the streets. We thought it was just their soldiers taking over one of the last cities in Cyrodiil not in Thalmor hands, and that may have been the reasoning on the surface, but the minute my parents saw Ancano, they knew."

Understanding dawned on the Nord's face. "They were after your family." He was silent for a moment. "Where are your parents now?"

I flinched. What was it with this Nord and his perceptive questions? "They're dead, killed by bandits almost as soon as we crossed the border into Skyrim. I had gone off ahead, having seen a small pond to bathe in. By the time I got back, they were dead, their valuables and the gold we needed for shelter looted off their bodies." A deep sigh escaped my lungs. "I'd really rather not talk about this anymore. But can you see why I don't want to join this conflict? The Thalmor will find me, and they _will _kill me this time." A sudden thought struck me as we crossed a bridge, making me stop in my tracks. Ralof stopped as well, turning to face me.

"What is it?"

"Those Thalmor agents at Helgen. They saw my face when I was speaking with Hadvar and the captain. _I stared them down_. They know I'm alive. And if they know, Ancano will know soon enough." I looked up at him, my eyes wide. "Please tell me you had a sudden, fierce hatred for Altmer in black robes while you were running through Helgen. Did you see any of them get killed?"

Ralof looked over my head for a moment, thinking. "I know one of them was killed by a Sormcloak, and another was caught in the dragon's fire. That's two. How many were there?"

I sighed, closing my eyes and pinching the bridge of my nose. "Three. Two men and a woman."

Ralof stepped toward me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I looked up. "Rysta," he said, using my name for the first time. "There is every chance in the world that last Thalmor didn't make it out alive. They wore close to no armor and were standing practically underneath the tower the dragon landed on. A stone probably squished the last one."

I chortled at the Nord, the childish word "squished" incongruous with the large man standing before me.

"You're probably right," I responded as we continued on our way. I smirked. "Too quick of a death, if you ask me." Ralof burst into laughter.

The rest of our journey consisted of friendly conversation, mostly focused on him and his adventures with Ulfric Stormcloak. It wasn't long before the small stone-and-wood gate leading into Riverwood came into sight, the guards posted on either side of the entrance nodding to us as we walked through, like a dragon hadn't just flown by and destroyed a nearby town. It was incredibly surreal.

We found Gerdur hard at work at the mill, just as I'd seen her the last time I'd been here a decade ago. She didn't see us for a few minutes, and Ralof had to clear his throat to get her to turn around. Seeing her brother, her face broke out into a smile and she abandoned a half-cut log in favor of hugging him.

"Ralof! My brother, it is so good to see you again!"

Ralof smiled, hugging his sister back just as tightly. "Gerdur, you have no idea how glad I am to see you. But I'm not here alone. I brought a friend."

I took that as my cue to emerge from the shadows. The Nord woman tilted her head, obviously not sure who I was. I looked around real quick, making sure no Thalmor were nearby, and removed my helmet, releasing my silvery hair and pointed ears. It was at this point Gerdur remembered who I was, for she immediately strode over and wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug.

"Rysta," she nearly murmured, the quietness of her voice unnerving me a bit. This woman was rarely silent. "I had no idea what happened to you after your house burnt down. I thought you dead!" She squeezed me tighter at this point, making me squeak. I looked over her shoulder to Ralof, my eyes pleading for mercy. The man grinned at me.

"She _will _be dead if you keep trying to break her in half like that," he quipped to his sister. Gerdur immediately released me, although she kept her hands on my shoulders, looking me over from an arms' length away.

"You've lost weight again. Come on; let's go up to the house. We can talk more freely there and it'll give me a chance to put some meat on those bones. Hod!" A man chopping firewood not too far away looked up. "I need you to watch the mill for me for a while. I'm heading up to the house." The man nodded. "You got it. Ralof," Hod said, pausing in his chopping to wave, "good to see you again!" Ralof returned the gesture as I placed my helmet back on my head.

"Wait, that's _Hod_?" I exclaimed, looking back over my shoulder as we headed through town. "He was so skinny the last time I saw him!" Both siblings laughed.

"Being married to me has a way of bulking you up," Gerdur replied. I gaped.

"You married him?" She nodded.

"We have a son, too. Stubborn headed like his father. I'm sure you'll run across Frodnar sooner or later."

Gerdur took a key out of her pocket and unlocked the door to a home on the eastern edge of town, easily the biggest building here, not counting the shops and inn. Walking inside, we immediately faced the fireplace, with a cutting table and shelves taking up the left wall. A dining table sat over to the right, with a dresser, wardrobe, and two beds taking up the second half of the home. It was humble, but beautiful in its simplicity. I instantly adored it.

"Both of you sit down at the table and I'll get you something to eat," Gerdur instructed. Ralof and I eagerly took our seats, our stomachs rumbling. We hadn't had any food since we'd been in the caverns, and the smell of whatever she was making was absolutely divine.

"Okay," she said, placing two steaming bowls of what looked to be beef stew in front of us, "tell me what's going on." So we did. We told her of our capture, "rescue", and eventual escape, leaving out not a single detail, all in between bites of her delicious stew, which she refilled our bowls with twice.

"A dragon? In Helgen? That can't be," Gerdur muttered, taking our bowls and placing them near the fireplace. "Although… it does explain what I saw earlier."

"What did you see?" Ralof asked, wiping his mouth with a provided cloth.

"Well, it was this great black mass flying down the valley from the south."

I nodded. "That sounds like our dragon. He was headed north the last time Ralof and I saw him." Gerdur sighed, her head in one hand and her hip in the other- the absolute picture of exasperation.

"Things just seem to go from bad to worse. First this war, and now dragons. What are we going to do?"

"Nothing for tonight," her brother asserted. "Tonight, we're all going to sleep in warm beds with our bellies full of delicious food and not think on this again until the morning." I agreed with Ralof wholeheartedly and after saying good bye to Gerdur for the night, we soon found ourselves at Riverwood's inn, The Sleeping Giant. The proprietress was an ever-suspicious Breton woman, Delphine, but she gave us our rooms without much fuss. I would have asked to have water drawn for a bath, but I was much too tired and I could always bathe in the river if we ended up leaving early in the morning. Ralof and I shuffled off to our respective bedrooms and I immediately removed my armor as soon as I'd locked the door. Clothed in nothing but my underthings, I slipped in between the blanket and the animal fur mattress and put my head on the pillow. I was out within seconds.


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow, this is my longest chapter yet- by almost a thousand words! I am so pleased with where this story is going and for the feedback I've been receiving- both in reviews and in PMs. You guys are fantastic!**

**But I'm curious to know y'all's opinions on what I'm doing. Am I going too slowly? Too fast? Have I completely screwed up a character? Want to see Ralof dancing in a gorilla suit? Please tell me so I know how to better cater this story to you, the readers. After all, if it weren't for you guys (and a little help from my friends), I wouldn't be writing this story at all. So let me know!**

**End of rant. Enjoy the chapter- we're off to Whiterun!**

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

Despite my body needing a full night's sleep, I found myself waking at every creak the building made. I even grabbed my dagger at a loud banging sound before I realized that it was just the door to the inn closing. Once I did manage to fall asleep, I was plagued with nightmares, both old and new. I found myself up with the dawn, desperately needing more sleep, but I realized I wouldn't be getting any more when a knock sounded from the door to my bedroom.

"Rysta?" I heard Ralof's quiet tenor through the block between us. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," I replied less than happily. "Be out in a minute."

The second I stepped out of my room and looked at the Nord, garbed once again in my Stormcloak armor, he flinched.

"Divines, girl, didn't you sleep at all? You look worse than yesterday!"

I shot him a look that would have put him in the ground. "I tried. Stupid nightmares kept me up most of the night." The man put a sympathetic hand on my shoulder, which I patted in acknowledgement before shrugging off. I was a big girl and I could handle myself, horrific nightmares or not. The two of us then left the inn and headed back towards Gerdur's house. I could hear the saw mill cutting wood already on the opposite end of town; Hod must have gotten up even earlier than we had.

"Gerdur said she's got some things to tell us before we go off and do anything," Ralof told me. I nodded.

"As long as she's got some food to go with the information, I'm okay," was my reply, my empty stomach giving a deep gurgle of agreement. Ralof chuckled as he led us inside.

"I've been thinking about what to do," Gerdur said the minute we walked in. The three of us sat down to a breakfast of leftover beef stew, cheese, butter on warmed bread, and goat's milk. Frodnar had left the house with his father that morning, so we spoke freely. "We need to tell Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun about this. Riverwood is completely defenseless against a dragon and we'll need as many soldiers as he can spare to help protect the town." Both Ralof and I nodded our agreement with her statement.

"I can stay here to protect Riverwood against the beasts while Rysta goes to Whiterun," Ralof suggested, talking around a mouthful of half-chewed bread. I stared at him, not liking the idea at all.

"You want _me_ on the roads. By _myself_. Dressed as a _Stormcloak_. Yeah, that's going to go over real well with the Thalmor and Imperials," I snapped, the last couple bites of my breakfast left untouched. "Might as well paint a sign that says 'Arrest Me!' and hang it around my neck."

"I think I can help with that," Gerdur cut in, interrupting my tirade. Ralof and I looked over at her as she continued. "I've got a spare dress you can wear; you can put your armor in your bag. I'll give you some boots, too."

I thought about it for a moment. "All right," I agreed reluctantly. "But I'll need a hat of some sort, too. Something that covers my ears, if you can manage it." The woman nodded at my request and went to retrieve the items from the wardrobe as Ralof and I cleared the table.

"The dress may be a bit big," Gerdur told me as she brought the requested items over, "but I can fasten the laces tighter and hem it really quickly if the dress needs it." Ralof, sensing that we were stepping into girly territory, beat a hasty retreat, saying something about 'dragon patrols'. Our laughter followed him out the door.

"Now, if you'll just take off your armor, we can get this dress fitted." I did as the Nord woman asked, shucking my Stormcloak getup in favor of the simple green dress and cowl Gerdur had provided. She eyed me critically as I tried to smooth out a couple of wrinkles in the skirt. "It doesn't need much done to it, to be honest," the woman muttered, tugging on a sleeve. "This was one of my old dresses, from before I even met you. I'm surprised I still had it." I pulled my hair back with a leather tie she offered me before tugging the cowl over my head and sitting down to put on the boots. These were pretty ill-fitting, almost comically so, so I opted instead to just wear my Stormcloak military boots. No one would be able to see them under the dress, anyway.

"Do I pass muster?" I asked her, twirling around in a circle, arms extended. Gerdur smiled and nodded her head.

"Indeed you do. Now, let me get you some food for the road…" The woman grabbed my bag from where it sat on the floor and placed a couple of apples and some cooked beef in it before going over to a strongbox that rested on top of her dresser. After unlocking it she pulled a couple of items out. "I realize that you're low on coin, so here are a few things to tide you over," she told me, placing a garnet, a silver ring, and a necklace in my hands. I gasped.

"Gerdur, I can't-"

"You can and you will," she told me sternly, closing my fingers around the trinkets. Nodding silently, I added these to my pack. "Now, is there anything else you need?" I thought for a moment.

"You wouldn't happen to have some extra healing potions, would you? I didn't have time to make some more last night." Gerdur nodded as she strode to the fireplace mantel, retrieving three pink colored bottles.

"They're just minor ones," she told me, "so they aren't much, but hopefully they'll help."

"They'll help plenty. Thank you," I told her, placing the containers in my bag as well before slinging it over my shoulder. "I've got to go. Whiterun's at least a half day's walk from here, and that's if I don't run into any trouble." I made for the door. My hand was on the knob when Gerdur stopped me once more.

"Wait," she said, running back over to her strongbox. "There was something I meant to give you the last time you were here, all those years ago. I should still have it- ah ha!" She returned to me, smiling triumphantly. She extended her hand, a small brass key lying in her palm. "A key to the house," she explained. "You're always welcome here. Thank you for watching my brother's back at Helgen."

I'll admit, I teared up a bit. This was one of the kindest gifts I'd ever received. I couldn't speak past the lump in my throat, so I settled for taking the key, putting it in my bag, and then subjecting Gerdur to a hug that I thought rivaled hers. She returned the gesture and then we broke apart. I waved at her again, a smile on my face, before opening the door and walking outside.

I stopped by the mill before I left to say goodbye to Ralof, who was chopping wood while Hod and Frodnar worked the saw. Stopping at the edge of the fence that ran alongside the building, I caught the Nord's eye. He looked up from his work, a layer of sweat already covering his face. The man had changed out of his Stormcloak armor as well, instead wearing a plain white tunic with black pants.

"You leaving, Rysta?" he asked, dropping the wood axe onto the ground before walking over to me. I nodded.

"Yes, I'm heading for Whiterun now. I should arrive just after midday if I leave now." He nodded, smiling.

"All right then. You be careful, you hear? No getting into fights with any Thalmor you see on the road, no matter how much they deserve a good thrashing." I grinned at this and promised that I wouldn't start anything. I suddenly found myself in another smothering Nord hug, my nose buried deep in Ralof's shoulder. That was another thing he and Gerdur had in common- their hugs were borderline lethal.

"Thank you for doing this Rysta. Truly," he said, pulling away and eyeing me. "It means so much to me, my family, and the entirety of Riverwood. You're going to be saving a lot of lives by going to see the Jarl today."

I smiled, patting the large man's bicep. "You owe me a couple rounds of mead for this one, Nord," I responded. He laughed and agreed before pulling me into one more bone-crushing hug and telling me to be careful. I agreed once more, pulled away, and walked out of the city gates, following a path north towards Whiterun.

I want to say that it was one large fight to get to Whiterun, but that would be a lie. The roads were borderline deserted, with only the occasional refugee or Imperial patrol passing me by. It wasn't until I was within eyesight of the city that I spotted them. Tall and covered head to toe in Elven armor, I knew exactly who these people were.

Thalmor soldiers.

My blood ran cold and I had to physically stop myself from drawing my blade or hiding in an outcropping or rocks as we walked towards each other, the Thalmor heading in the direction I'd just come from.

They were silent as we passed each other, the soldiers not even sparing me a passing glance, although I saw one wrinkle his nose in disgust, as if he smelled something extremely distasteful. Oh, that was probably me. I'd forgotten to bathe that morning. As soon as they were out of earshot I released a panicky breath, nearly running the rest of the way to Whiterun, only slowing to a walk when I got to Pelagia Farm.

Which was when I saw the giant and the two people fighting it. On instinct, I called a ball of flames into my hand and shot it at the lumbering giant's body, the fire hitting it square in the chest. The larger of the two fighters took advantage of the distraction and sliced the giant's belly with his greatsword, sending blood and entrails everywhere. With one last groan of pain, the giant fell to the ground and the fighters sheathed their weapons. They then turned towards me and walked my way, pausing only when they were within speaking range. I smiled at the two.

"Farkas, Aela." The man, who obviously hadn't figured out who I was yet, cocked his head, confused as to how I knew who he was. Aela on the other hand had figured it out shortly after coming within 20 feet of me, a smirk sliding onto her face. That was the closest to a smile I'd ever seen her get.

"Well, if it isn't Rysta," the Huntress quipped, placing a hand on her hip. "It's been awhile." Farkas had started at the mention of my name and leaned down, coming close to my face. He inhaled quickly through his nose, much like a dog would, before his face broke out into a wide grin.

"Rysta, it's been too long," the towering Nord said, his arms circling my body tightly. Seriously, what was with these Nords and their hugs? I didn't think my ribs could take much more.

"Hey, Farkas," I replied, my own arms circling around the man's neck. We pulled away after a moment and I clasped arms with Aela, a hunter's greeting. "Hello, Aela."

"What are you doing here?" the Nord woman asked as we made our way towards Whiterun's gates. "Last time we saw you, you were heading back to Cyrodiil. Something happen?"

I shook my head. "A lot has happened," I replied, sighing. "And not all of it can be spoken of in public."

"You should come to Jorrvaskr, then," Farkas told me. "You smell of fire and death, anyway. You can take a bath when you get there too." Aela smacked the larger Nord in reprimand, but I merely laughed. It was probably true, anyway. I hadn't bathed since before I crossed the Cyrodiil/Skyrim border, and that had been almost two days ago. Farkas had always had a strong nose, just as his twin brother, Vilkas, possessed exceptional hearing. I chalked it up to growing up around warriors. Things like that tended to hone your abilities pretty quickly.

"If that offer comes with something stronger than water to drink as well, I'll stop by as soon as I finish my business," I told them as we approached the gates. The guards opened up the doors for the two Companions, but cut me off before I could walk through.

"Halt," one guard said, placing his body in front of me. "The city is closed due to rumors of dragons. Anyone not authorized cannot come into the city." Farkas and Aela looked like they were about to speak up in my defense, but I raised a hand, stopping them.

"I come bearing news from Helgen," I said, putting a strong note of authority into my voice. "I must speak to the Jarl about the dragon attack."

Everyone was silent for a moment as they absorbed my words. Understanding bloomed on Aela and Farkas' faces, although I didn't know why, and the guards just stared at me for another second before they moved out of my way.

"News from Helgen?" the second guard sputtered. "Go right on through, miss."

I nodded at them. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse us." I caught up with the two Companions as they walked through the city gate, the loud 'thud!' of the door closing behind us ringing in my ears.

"You really have news from Helgen?" Farkas asked, interest shining in his eyes. I nodded as we climbed the steps from the Plains to the Winds District of the city.

"I was there when the dragon attacked. Barely escaped with my life, but I got out. I'll tell you more once I get to Jorrvaskr, I promise." Farkas' face fell, and for a moment I swear I could see dog ears on his head, drooping in disappointment. The image was almost comical, but I retained my laughter and settled for a pat on his heavily-armored shoulder. "I should be there within an hour, if things go well," I told him. That seemed to mollify the male Companion a bit, for he nodded and followed Aela up the stairs to Jorrvaskr, a giant boat-turned-mead hall that sat on the side of a hill, the famous Skyforge billowing smoke next to it.

I waved farewell to both Companions before making my way past the Gildergreen, a huge tree that sat smack dab in the middle of the city, and up some more stone steps that wound up a steep incline, past the shrine of Talos and its crazy priest, Heimskr, who stood just in front of it, shouting sermons and prophecies of doom. The man had been half-mad with his love of Talos when I first saw him six years ago, and it seemed it had only increased in that time.

After climbing the multiple sets of stairs and crossing the bridge leading to the door of Dragonsreach, the Jarl's palace, I stopped, suddenly nervous. I'd never had a reason to meet with the Jarl before, and the thought of having one now was rather daunting. I looked down at my outfit, flinched at its simplicity, sighed, and then opened the door.

The interior of Dragonsreach is exactly what someone would picture for a Jarl's palace. High, vaulted ceilings towered above my head, the exposed beaming carved with gorgeous and highly detailed designs. Braziers hugged both sides of a wide staircase in front of me, and once I'd climbed it, I saw two long tables situated on either side of the room, furnished with the finest silverware and full to bursting with food. A great fire rose from a pit in the center, and beyond it, sitting languidly on his throne and speaking with another well-dressed man was Jarl Balgruuf.

Taking a deep breath and squaring my shoulders, I strode towards the Jarl, only to be stopped short of the dais by an angry-looking Dunmer.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" She demanded, sword unsheathed and pointed at my throat. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors at this time." I eyed her, stepping away from the blade, my hands up defensively.

"Whoa, calm down," I told her. "I need to speak with the Jarl. I have news from Helgen regarding the dragon attack." The woman regarded me a moment, taking in my shabby clothing and overall disheveled appearance, before sheathing her blade.

"Well, that would explain why the guards let you in." She moved over to the side, motioning me to follow. "Come this way. The Jarl will want to speak to you personally." She moved towards the dais with me at her heels and I had to resist the strong urge to make a face behind her back. This Dunmer was haughtier than most of the others I'd met in my life, although I suppose standing at the Jarl's right hand would give anyone a bit of a bloated ego.

As soon as I was within twenty feet of the throne, the man – Jarl Balgruuf – looked up at me, his gaze as intense as one would think a Jarl's would be.

"So," he began. "You were at Helgen."

"Yes," I responded, dropping the "my Jarl" honorific. I did not belong to his Hold and therefore did not need to lower my status before him. "A friend and I barely escaped the city with our lives."

"And… you saw this dragon with your own eyes?"

I nodded. "I did. Came face-to-face with it at one point, quite literally. It completely destroyed Helgen and was heading this way the last time I saw it." The Nord man's eyes widened at my words.

"By Ysmir, Irileth was right!" he exclaimed, and I heard a quiet 'hmph' come from the Dunmer woman, a smug look on her face. I guessed the initial dragon information had come from her. The Jarl looked over to the man he'd been speaking with earlier, who stood on his opposite side.

"What do you say now, Proventus?" the Jarl asked, raising an eyebrow. "Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls against a dragon?" I realized that the Jarl was upset but doing a rather remarkable job at reigning in his temper. It was a good quality to possess and I found myself impressed with the man. Before this Proventus could get a word in however, Irileth spoke up.

"My Jarl, I think it would be wisest to send troops to defend Riverwood at once," she said. I nodded at her comment.

"That was why I initially came here. Gerdur of Riverwood requests your aid in defending the town against the possibility of a dragon attack."

"The Jarl of Falkreath will see that as a threat!" The well-dressed Imperial, Proventus countered, interrupting. "He'll think we've sided with Ulfric and desire to attack him! We shouldn't-"

"Enough!" The Jarl's voice rang out, instantly silencing both man and mer. It looked like he'd finally reached his breaking point. He looked over at Proventus, his eyes sparking. "I will _not_ stand idly by while a dragon burns my Hold and slaughters my people. Irileth," he continued, facing the Dunmer, "send a detachment to Riverwood at once." I looked over at the woman and although not a muscle on her gray-blue face twitched as she acquiesced to her Jarl's orders, her eyes were practically dancing with merriment and self-satisfaction. Huh. No love lost between these two advisers.

"If you'll excuse me then, I will return to my duties," Proventus said, his voice tight with repressed emotion- probably humiliation, when I thought about it. Both Dunmer and Imperial bowed to the Jarl before leaving his presence. Balgruuf then turned to me, his face relaxing into a friendlier disposition.

"Well met," he told me, inclining his head. "You have sought me on your own initiative and have done a great service for Whiterun. I won't forget it." The man snapped his fingers and a maid immediately came running, carrying a small bundle.

"Here, take this as a token of my esteem." The cloth surrounding whatever was inside was drawn back, and underneath the thick red cloth was a gorgeous set of studded Imperial armor. I internally cringed at both the affiliation and the weight, but my mask of excited politeness stayed in place as I thanked the Jarl for his generosity and instructed the maid to have it delivered to Jorrvaskr. As she scuttled off, Balgruuf looked at me in a new light, his eyes appraising.

"There is one more thing you can do for me," he said quietly. I screamed mentally, already tired of playing the errand girl, but I stayed quiet and listened to the man's request. "I think it will be suitable for someone with your… particular talents." I raised an eyebrow at that. What did he know of my talents, beyond the fact that I walked quickly? "Come," he said, suddenly rising. I stepped backward, surprised at how tall he was; my head would just barely graze his chin. He didn't look that way when he slouched on his throne. "Let us find Farengar, my court wizard. He has spent years studying dragons and the _rumors_ of dragons," he said, smiling as if what he'd said was a joke. I certainly didn't get it.

The two of us walked over to the left wing of the receiving hall, where we happened upon a man carefully studying a book, the cuffs of his dark blue robes scuffed with black, like he'd spilled an inkwell and had tried to mop it up with his sleeves.

"Farengar," Balgruuf said, causing the mage to drop his tome, startled. I couldn't help snickering. "I think I may have found someone who can help you with your dragon problem." The man nudged me forward to stand right in front of Farengar before taking his leave. The mage – a Nord, I was shocked to discover – looked me over.

"So," he said, his voice thick with absent condescension, "have you come here to discuss the ongoing hostilities like the rest of the 'great warriors'?" I raised an eyebrow, placing my hands on my hips. Had he not heard what his Jarl had just said?

"The Jarl said that there was a project you needed help with. I was volunteered."

Farengar's eyes immediately lit up, like a child's would at the mention of the New Life Festival. "Oh, you must mean my research with the dragons!" he exclaimed, his attention now fully on me. I resisted an eye roll. This man was very bad at listening to people. "Yes, I need someone to fetch something for me." I wanted to plant my head in my hands so badly right then. _Another_ errands job? Did I have a sign on me saying "courier"? I hoped he held no illusions about my getting it today, because it wouldn't happen. "Well," he continued, "when I say 'fetch', I really mean 'delve into a dangerous ruin to find an ancient stone tablet that may or may not be in there'." I stared at him openmouthed for a moment before scoffing. Not only was I an errand girl, I was apparently a _disposable_ errand girl.

"You're serious?" I asked, crossing my arms and shifting my weight over to one leg- the picture of a disgruntled female.

The change in my stance – which would send a normal man running for cover – went completely over Farengar's head. "As the grave."

I thought for a moment. An opportunity like this could mean two things: a lonely, violent death, or glowing praise and a hefty sack of coins. I smiled at the thought. It seemed my time with the Thieves Guild rubbed off on me more than I thought it had. "All right," I agreed, "where am I going and what am I 'fetching'?"

The man turned business-like again, walking over to a map he had pinned to a standing board. "I discovered some information regarding an ancient stone tablet down in the ruins of Bleak Falls Barrow," here he pointed to a spot on the map not far from Riverwood. I remembered Ralof mentioning it as we were walking from Helgen. "It's called a Dragon Stone, said to be a map of ancient dragon burial sites." He looked back at me.

"So, what I have to do is go into Bleak Falls Barrow, an area probably filled with skeletons, draugr, and bandits, fight them off, find this "Dragon Stone", which will undoubtedly be in the hardest to reach area of the ruin, get it, and bring it back to you, all without dying."

"Basically," Farengar replied, shrugging. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

"All right. I'll leave in a couple of days; I just need to get some supplies first," I replied, already sick of the trip.

I bid farewell to the mage, who by now had returned to his books and was once again completely oblivious to the world, and made my way out of Dragonsreach and towards Jorrvaskr. I walked down the steps to the Winds District, passing the Talos shrine to my left, and up one more flight of stone steps. I walked towards the entrance to the mead hall and put my hand on the door. I pushed it open to find the entirety of the Companions, even Kodlak, with his rheumy old eyes and slightly rockjointed hands, drinking and making merry in the great hall. At my entrance the volume increased, old friends yelling their greetings and the whelps being loud just for the sake of it. I looked at them all before my eyes settled on a giant keg of mead sitting in the middle of it all. I looked at my friends, a grin lighting my face.

"Got room for one more?"


	5. Chapter 5

**I've decided to do my A/Ns at the bottom of the chapter, so look there. :)**

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

A cheer went up at my question and I saw Farkas waving me over to sit between him and his brother, Vilkas. These twins held a special place in my heart. They, along with Kodlak, were the only ones to know the full extent of my past. They'd found out what had happened in Solitude after Vilkas heard me crying out in my sleep in Jorrvaskr one night when the nightmares had been particularly bad. So I'd told them what had happened, and they'd grieved with me over my loss, treating it as if they'd lost their own. I think that was the first time I'd ever truly cried over my husband and daughter.

I shook off my melancholy as I sat between the two Nords, giving each twin a squeeze on the shoulder before taking my chair. A tankard of ale, some bread and meat was placed in front of me, and I immediately scarfed it all down, draining the cup dry and clearing the plate in a matter of seconds.

"Ahh," I said, hiding a small burp behind my hand. "Much better." Those in the room chuckled. With my body warming up from both the alcohol and the burning fire in front of me, I asked Kodlak if it would be okay for me to stay here for a couple of days.

"Of course you may," the Harbinger responded. "I don't see why you even need to ask. You'll always have a home here." I grinned happily.

"Thank you, Harbinger," I said, getting up from my seat and stretching. "I'm going to go take a bath." The housekeeper, Tilma, led me down to the living quarters where she showed me my room. It was smaller, with a single person bed, a chest for personal items, with a table and chair located at the edge of one wall.

"I'll go get you a tub and some hot water," the old woman told me before leaving the room. I quickly undressed, placing my clothing on the bed. I had just removed my boots when Tilma returned, a large wooden tub rolling in front of her. She set it down before leaving the room again and then returning with two water-filled buckets.

"Here, dear, this is warm now. Wash your hair with this and I'll bring some more water for you to soak in." I thanked the old woman and did as she asked, taking a bar of soap and what looked to be lavender oils from inside the chest I'd seen earlier.

The bath was the most amazing thing I'd experienced in just about forever. The water was warm and after the soaking water was brought in, I swear I almost fell asleep in the tub. It took an abnormal amount of mental strength to get out of the bath once I was all clean, but once I was out and back in my clothes, I felt completely awake and rejuvenated. I quickly toweled off my hair and put the cowl over my head once again before returning to the main hall to find it empty except for the twins, Kodlak, and Aela. Vilkas spotted me first.

"Rysta, Farkas was just speaking about your rather abrupt return," he said as I took a chair amongst their group. "What brought you back here? Is everything okay?" I looked up at the younger twin and was about to explain that no, I was currently on the run from dragons and Thalmor both when someone – a courier, as it turned out – burst into Jorrvaskr.

"I'm looking for Satyr," the man announced through harsh breaths. "I have an urgent message." I jumped up from my place at the table. Satyr was an anagram of my first name, one the Thieves' Guild had used for me while I was in Riften to keep the Thalmor off my trail. Brynjolf and I hadn't been in contact for a while, but I wasn't surprised he'd tracked me down so quickly. Whiterun had been in Guild hands for quite some time now and the city was probably crawling with informants. To get a letter to me within a day, though, meant that he was more than likely in the city somewhere.

"I'm her," I replied, moving up to take the envelope from the man. Farkas and Vilkas weren't far behind me, their presence at my back a comfort I hadn't felt in a long time. I unrolled the parchment, quickly reading through the hastily-written message.

_Dear Satyr,_

_Welcome back to Skyrim, lass. I have a personal request to ask of you. A good friend of ours has been near ruined by some work gone awry near Markarth. I request that you come find me- all you need to do is slip through the water grate immediately to the left of the city gate, behind Warmaiden's. Quick as you can please._

_Yours,_

_B._

I read through the note twice, just to make sure I hadn't missed any details, before rolling the parchment back up and thanking the courier, who promptly disappeared out the door.

"Who's it from?" Vilkas asked, eyeing me. I looked back at him, a crease marring my brow.

"Vilkas, I need to see you, Farkas and Kodlak someplace private, if you would," I responded, avoiding the question. Both twins regarded me, confused for a moment, before nodding.

"Kodlak's in his quarters," the younger twin responded. "We can talk there." The three of us made our way downstairs and to the Harbinger's private room. Kodlak looked up at our entrance, his almost-blind eyes focusing after a moment.

"Twins, Rysta, what brings you here?" I smiled back at the older Nord as Farkas shut the door behind us. The Harbinger motioned for us to take a seat in the chairs that sat opposite his. Farkas and I each took one while Vilkas stood near the door.

"Kodlak, I need the Companion's help with something. In regards to the dragon attack in Helgen."

I could practically hear their heads whip in my direction. "I heard about the attack. News travels quickly here, but I thought it nothing but rumors." Kodlak said. "What were you doing in Helgen? Aren't you supposed to be in Cyrodiil?" I sighed deeply, pinching my nose between my fingers.

"Because of the dragon attack, Helgen was destroyed and few made it out alive. As for what I was doing, well, I was kind of a prisoner of the Empire at the time." I received no response beyond a widening of eyes from the three Nords, so I continued. "I was trying to get back into Skyrim because the Nelecar – my mom's side of the family – found my location and sent the Thalmor after me. I had been hiding in the old ruins of what used to be a fort not too far north of Bruma, so it wasn't hard to get up to the border. What was difficult was explaining my presence, and my blue tunic, to a bunch of Imperial soldiers in the middle of an ambush against the Stormcloaks. They thought I was a mage siding with the rebellion, so I was captured too. They brought us to Helgen to be executed, but then the dragon attacked and I escaped."

"So, what do you need us to do?" Farkas asked, curious.

"The Jarl's wizard has tasked me with retrieving something called a Dragon Stone from Bleak Falls Barrow but I've just received a request for aid from someone I greatly respect involving another good friend being captured out near Markarth. So, I was wondering if one or two of the Companions could be spared to go through Bleak Falls Barrow? I'd obviously pay you, and whatever reward the Jarl gives out would be yours to keep. I'm a little low on coin," I ran my hand over the too-light gold pouch tied to my hip, "but let me go sell some things and I should have something to give you." All three Companions looked at me like I'd grown a second head.

"What?"

Vilkas spoke first. "You really think we'd let a Shield Sibling pay us? Surely you hold us in higher regard than that."

My eyes went wide. "I didn't mean to offend! I was just saying-" Vilkas' snort of laughter cut off my apologies and Farkas' joking smile made me roll my eyes. The twins had quickly discovered during my previous stay at Jorrvaskr that I hated stepping on toes. They would act all offended at something I said and then snicker when I tried to amend my statement. It had been a bit of a game between us. "You guys are terrible," I said, slapping Farkas on the arm and shooting Vilkas a mock glare. I quickly sobered. "But seriously. I could really use the help."

Kodlak was the one to answer. "If the twins are up to it, I suppose I can spare them for a few days." I grinned widely, glancing hopefully between the two hulking Nords. Farkas nodded.

"I'm up for it. It's been awhile since I've been dungeon diving. Brother?" Vilkas considered it a moment.

"How long do you expect to be gone?" He asked me. I shrugged.

"I don't know. A week, maybe two. Much longer than you, for sure."

"I'll go, but only if you'll promise me one thing."

I quirked an eyebrow. "And what would that be?"

"That you take someone with you. The Reach is overrun with Forsworn and you're likely to get severely injured or killed if you go on your own." Vilkas' concern for me was touching, and I agreed that I wouldn't go and perform any rescues by myself.

"Who was the letter from?" Farkas asked after we'd worked out the specifics of who was going where.

"My friend in the Thieves Guild," I explained, leaving Brynjolf's name out of it. Vilkas' face soured. The Companions knew I'd been with the Guild for a while before coming to Whiterun, they just didn't know how deeply I'd been involved. The younger twin still hadn't been fond of the idea of me prowling around at night. "An associate of ours was caught near Markarth and my assistance is needed to break him out of wherever he's being kept. That's all I know."

I got up to leave, opening the door as I explained that I needed to run some errands before I left.

"I have some things I need to pawn off before I leave," I told them, halfway out the door. "By the way," I asked, popping my head back into the room, "did an Imperial set of armor ever get dropped off?"

"It's on the table in your room," Kodlak replied kindly. I smiled and offered my thanks before leaving the three Companions to themselves. Vilkas was looking a bit sulky (well, sulkier than normal) and probably wanted to rant about my less-than-legal shenanigans to the Harbinger.

I made my way down the hall to my room, grabbed my bag from off the floor by the bed and snagged the armor from the table before lugging everything back upstairs.

I was halfway up when I bumped into someone, the collision nearly making me lose my footing.

"Sorry, are you all right?" the other person asked me, grabbing my shoulders to help right me again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, looking up into a pair of vivid red eyes. It was a female Dunmer, with deep blue-gray skin and dark hair. It was her face I was so interested in, though. Because for all of her dark elf attributes, bright orange war makeup notwithstanding, her face almost perfectly mimicked a Nord's. I was drawn out of my reverie by her head tilting.

"You… okay?" she asked, eyes a bit wary. It looked like she was trying to figure out if I was drunk or not.

"Yeah, no, I'm fine. I was just caught off guard by your war paint." I offered my most sincere smile, trying not to die of embarrassment from getting caught staring. I adjusted my grip on the heavy armor I held in my arms. "I was just going to sell this to Adrienne. I never was good with heavy armor."

The woman smirked. "I know the feeling. I prefer leather over steel any day. I was actually just about to head over there," she told me as we climbed the rest of the stairs and walked out of Jorrvaskr. "I was going to ask Vilkas if he wanted to join me for a round at the Drunken Huntsman," one of the taverns in the city, I remembered, "after I picked up one of my swords that I'd left to have sharpened."

The two of us meandered over to Warmaiden's where the Dunmer, whose name turned out to be Tiberia, retrieved her blade (an elven sword, and quite beautiful) from Adrienne. I sold the Imperial armor to the Redguard woman for a fair price, and even managed to get her to buy the jewelry and garnets Gerdur had given me.

After parting ways with Tiberia and with a distinctly louder jingle in my gold pouch, I made my way over to Arcadia's Cauldron where I bought several healing potions and ingredients so I could make more on my own if I found the time. I then made my way back to Warmaiden's where I proceeded to step into the water channel behind the shop's forge and follow it down to the grate in the wall. I quickly looked around to make sure no one was looking before I shifted a couple of the bars and squeezed myself inside.

I replaced the grate behind me and looked down where I spotted a metal sewer cover. "I swear these people _enjoy _living in sewer systems," I grumbled to myself, lifting the metal plate. I placed my feet through the hole, water spilling down and drenching the ground beneath me. I dropped down to the floor below; making sure the lid partially covered the hole as I fell through. Then, with a – probably stolen – iron poker that had been placed in a corner nearby, obviously for just this scenario, I pulled the lid back over the hole, stopping the deluge of water. I grumbled, looking at my soaked dress.

"Ugh, and I'd just gotten clean, too."

"Hello lass."

I gasped, dropping the poker. The sound of it hitting the stone floor was loud in the quiet of the city's underbelly. I whirled around to see a redheaded Nord leaning up against a wall, a smirk lining his face.

"Brynjolf, by the Divines! You really need to stop sneaking up on me like that!"

"And what, miss out on your reaction? Never." Brynjolf's smug look faded into a real smile after a minute, and I couldn't help return the gesture. "Glad to see you back, Rysta," he told me, motioning me to follow him. I did so.

"What? No soul-crushing hug from my favourite redheaded thief?" I teased. Brynjolf chuckled, turning a corner into a short hallway that led to a reinforced door.

"Perhaps when you stop leaving puddles in your wake" was his response. I considered going up and hugging him anyway, if only to get his Nightingale armor wet, but thought better of it. Brynjolf was a prankster. He'd get me back a thousand times over if I tried.

"Is the Guild doing well?" I asked as Brynjolf opened the door and led me into a small room. It looked to be about a quarter of the size of the Cistern, but it was nicely furnished, with rugs, a combination bedroom/kitchen area, and even an alchemy table.

"Very well," he responded, sitting in a chair in one corner of the room. I took a seat next to the fire in an attempt to dry off my clothes. "We've pretty much got every major city in Skyrim in our hands, plus Bruma and Cheydinhal in Cyrodiil. We're working on Jehanna in High Rock and Blacklight in Morrowind as well, although this bloody war has made crossing borders difficult."

Didn't I know it. "So, how did you find out I was back?" I asked. Brynjolf smirked again.

"The minute our informant at Dragonsreach sent me a note saying that someone had survived Helgen and had come to warn the Jarl, I knew it was you. You're the only person I know who could have survived a dragon attack largely unscathed."

"Well, you were right," I admitted, walking away from the fireplace. My trying to dry myself off wasn't working quickly enough for me. "Is there any chance you brought an extra set of clothes, Bryn?" I asked. "I'm desperate to be dry again."

"I can do you one better, lass," he told me, getting up from his chair and opening up a chest next to the wall that I hadn't noticed before. I knew immediately what he was grabbing as soon as I caught sight of black leather.

My old Nightingale armor.

"You kept it," I said, a bit breathless. "I thought it would have been misplaced ages ago." The redheaded Nord smiled and he handed me the lightweight pieces.

"Have some faith, lass. Why do you think we made this underground area? It's got most of your old stuff."

I stopped, mouth agape. "Wait. Really? Even…" I walked towards the chest that Brynjolf had opened and rifled through it. And there at the bottom, wrapped in a wolf pelt, sat a blade that I hadn't seen in almost a decade.

"Chillrend!" I cried, eagerly releasing the glass sword from its furry confines. I looked up at Brynjolf, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, Brynjolf. It means a lot to me."

Chillrend had been the prize I'd claimed out of Mercer, the former Guildmaster's hidden room at his home while we'd been raiding it. It was a sword enchanted with a powerful frost spell, and the fact that it was made from glass and thus fairly light in weight made it a perfect blade for me. A lot better than the rusty dagger I carried now, in any case.

"Well, go get changed. There's a curtain divider between the bed and the rest of the room." I quickly followed Brynjolf's advice, drawing the curtain across before peeling myself out of my wet clothing. I hastily put on the Nightingale uniform, my fingers easily remembering how to put it on. The armor was a bit larger than it had been the last time I wore it. Gerdur apparently hadn't been kidding when she said I'd lost more weight.

I pulled the curtain back once I'd buckled Chillrend to my hip, my hood up but my mask lowered. "How do I look?"

"You look less like a wet skeever," he replied. I walked over and swatted his arm, a mock glare on my face.

"All right, enough jokes," I said as both of us took seats at the table. "What's going on in Markarth? And it was Niruin that got caught? The 'near ruined' hint was clever, by the way."

Brynjolf nodded. "Aye. The poor lad was caught by some patrolling guards just outside of Markarth one night and we have reason to believe he's being held captive in their prison."

"Cidhna Mine?" I gasped. "That's really bad. I remember hearing about them keeping Forsworn down there." I rubbed my forehead. "And you want me to get him out?"

Another nod. "The Guild is well known in Markarth, and while we may have more leeway to loot the city, breaking a prisoner out of Cidhna Mine is an entirely different matter. Your face is the only one the guards won't recognize. Besides, you're our best infiltrator, barring our little Vex, and she's gone off to Solitude on a sweep job."

I paused for a minute, thinking. "And do they know… what he is?" Brynjolf shook his head.

"I doubt it."

It had taken me a good year to figure out that Niruin was a vampire. The Thieves Guild loved its secrecy and since most of the members wore their hoods constantly, it was hard to memorize faces. Niruin was one such person, but since no one in our line of business cared about revealing faces or enjoyed going out during the day dressed in uniform, I never thought much of it. The only reason I found out was because the two of us had gotten caught by hired brutes in the middle of a job and they pulled back his hood, revealing his face, and his fangs. I wasn't even sure after that, but once I saw him disintegrate into mist and then reappear out of the thugs' reach, I knew exactly what he was.

There's a special type of vampire out in the northern reaches of Valenwood, called the Keerilth. It's a strictly Bosmer clan of vampires. They're not well known amongst the general populace, and I'd only heard of them because I had picked up a book called _Immortal Blood_ as a younger woman and read it cover to cover in an attempt to understand the perpetrators of the attacks in Solitude that had stolen my husband and daughter from me.

It took me a while to accept Niruin's condition, as I held (and to a degree, I still do hold) a grudge against vampires of all kinds. The Bosmer, Divines bless him, had completely understood my situation and laid low until I was more comfortable around him. Vampirism aside, I considered him to be one of my closest allies.

"How long has he been in prison?" I asked.

"At least a week, according to our informant," was Brynjolf's reply. "And as far as he can tell, Niruin hasn't been able to feed due to one reason or another. Skooma addiction among the inmates seems the most likely explanation."

Great. So we had not only a guild mate locked up, it just happened to be the one that drank blood and would probably frenzy if he didn't feed soon. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. I seemed to be doing that a lot, lately.

"All right, I'll go get him," I replied. Brynjolf's resulting smile could have lit up all of Tamriel. "But I don't want to go alone. You know how I feel about facing vampires, even friendly ones." There. I was doing what Vilkas asked of me. Not to the letter, but close enough that I didn't feel too guilty. The redhead nodded in reply, his face turning serious.

"Of course, lass," he said. "Our informant has volunteered to help you get Niruin out of Cidhna Mine in exchange for some monetary profit."

I sat back in my chair, relieved. It would spare me having to bring along another guild mate. I didn't need to worry about getting two thieves killed while I was out there. "So who are you sending with me?" I asked, curious.

"His name's Argis the Bulwark and he's a housecarl inside the city. He'll be able to get you into the prison without much trouble." The two of us stood simultaneously, him going over to the fireplace, where my clothes now hung, and I went over to the chest, retrieving more potions, ingredients, and soul gems for enchanting.

"Yeah, well, it's not the getting in part I'm worried about."

Having put everything I would need for the journey to Markarth in my knapsack, including another large pouch full of septims and multiple lockpicks, Brynjolf led me out of my safe house (safe sewer?) and down a couple of pathways. Apparently that watery entryway wasn't the only way to get in and out. Thank the Divines.

We ended up getting out through a small cave that exited just outside of the city, not too far from the stables, but well out of sight of the guards and the main road.

"Now," Brynjolf continued, facing me. "Head to Markarth and ask the steward in Understone Keep for Argis. Once you two meet, go find someplace private to discuss tactics and such. You know the drill." I nodded in assent and Brynjolf finally subjected me to a hug, although his was gentle and snug, not stifling. I'd missed this, I decided as we broke away.

"You should be careful lass," he warned me one last time. "The road to Markarth is dangerous and guarded by Forsworn, so I'd advise you stay on the main path so you don't run into too many of them." I agreed, and Brynjolf then handed me another pouch of money.

"For a horse," he explained. "Something tells me you're going to need every bit of gold you've got to keep this rescue mission under wraps." I agreed, holding the weight of the bag in my hand.

"I should be back before the month is out," I told him. It was already the 20th of Last Seed. "If I'm not, well, you should probably come looking."

With that, we went separate ways, Brynjolf back into the tunnel and me towards the Whiterun stables where I promptly purchased a horse and rode away.

I had a vampiric Bosmer to rescue.

* * *

**Hey guys! It's me again! Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter out. I was assaulted by real life and my creativity took a nosedive because of it.**

**I have a question for you all. I have this sneaking suspicion that I'm boring you all with these trifling details inside the chapters. Is this true? Because I think my chapters are a bit lackluster. Well, then again, I keep comparing myself to other writers and I can't help but be envious of their obvious talent so maybe that has something to do with it. Just let me know in a review, okay? I'm really concerned that this fic isn't being received too well. I respond to every review I receive, so you should totally talk to me.  
**

**Also, many thanks to MadamHyde for her review to the previous chapter and lending me her half-Dunmer Tiberia so I could put her in this chapter. You guys should go check out her fanfiction, entitled "Honor Among Thieves: The Unwilling Nightingale". It's fabulous and was part of the inspiration for this story. :D**


	6. Chapter 6

**The Elder Scrolls is © Bethesda. I own nothing you recognize.**

* * *

"No."

My head shot up. I was bowing before the Mournful Throne in Markarth, and Jarl Igmund had just denied my request to see Argis the Bulwark, my contact. I bit the inside of my cheek, the coppery taste of blood filling my mouth. I had nearly killed my horse to get here in two days instead of three; a sabre cat that had run after us as we dashed through the Reach had scratched my leg, leaving it scored and bloody; and I had barely rested at all. What sleep I did get had been plagued by nightmares of dragons and vampires alike.

I was not in the mood to be told no.

"Jarl Igmund," I repeated, more slowly and with more emphasis. "I _humbly_ request that you allow me to see Argis the Bulwark. It is a _very_ urgent issue." I looked at the bald man, lounging on his throne as I had seen Jarl Balgruuf do. "It is a matter of life and death." _Or undeath_, I added in my head.

"And I have told you no," the insufferable man replied. "Now be gone or I will have my guards remove you."

Seeing no other alternative, I stood, bowed stiffly (so much for showing subservience, that had gotten me nowhere), and left the Jarl's hall. Looking around, I noticed the massive amount of rocky debris that littered the outer entranceway to the Mourning Throne, and an idea immediately came to my head. I walked just far enough away that I was out of the guards' line of sight before hopping over crumbling stone and hiding in a little alcove in a far corner of the room, close to the bedroom chamber door. My hiding spot provided me with a good view of the room but was mostly hidden to everyone else. They'd have to have incredibly sharp eyes to find me, with my all-black Nightingale armor and the darkness of the corner. I decided to wait until the Jarl left for supper to break into the private chambers, where Argis would no doubt be. I healed my leg during the lull of activity, the bloody gouges knitting together and leaving me with long, pink-ish scars that I'd probably have for the rest of my life. Nothing I could do about the dried blood on my pant leg. I settled down to wait.

"Have you found her?" A male voice I hadn't heard before rang out a couple of hours later. I shrunk down a bit further.

"No, sir." Two more replied in unison. Recognizing the accent as coming from the Summerset Isles and dreading seeing the people I knew I was about to see, I peeked over one of the rocks in my hiding place. Sure enough, two Thalmor soldiers and one Justiciar stood in front of the entrance to the throne room.

"She couldn't have seen us following her," the Justiciar continued. "She was riding too quickly to bother with checking her trail. She couldn't have gone far. Search the city."

A duo of "yes sir"s echoed and the sound of heavy footsteps came closer. I shrunk back as far into the corner as I could, curling into a ball and just stopping myself from murmuring an incantation that would turn me temporarily invisible. That had been a gift from Nocturnal herself after Karliah, Brynjolf, and I returned the Skeleton Key that Mercer had stolen to its rightful place in the Twilight Sepulcher. I would probably need that spell later.

Waiting a few more minutes after the sound of footsteps faded, I peered over the top of the rock in front of me to see the Justiciar talking with the Jarl in low tones. It was too far away for me to hear everything, but the words "catch", "Nelecar", "abomination", and "Oncano" were mentioned loudly enough that I could piece together what was being said.

That last Thalmor at Helgen had lived, told others about me, word had gotten to Oncano, and now I had to worry about the Thalmor actively searching for me as well as these stupid dragons. Like I needed one more thing to worry about.

I shook my head to clear away the distracting thoughts. I needed to focus on getting Niruin out of Cidhna Mine. But first, I had to find Argis. The Jarl, the Justiciar, and their accompanying entourage all headed towards the private area of the palace, and I waited a good twenty minutes before sneaking my way over as well.

It was a lot easier to find him than I thought it was going to be. The man I assumed to be Argis sat on a chair inside what must have been his quarters, a bored look on his face and his head in his hand. His fingers idly traced the red swirl tattoo that covered his right cheek. Tense muscles belied his agitation, however.

"Argis?" I asked quietly, emerging from the shadows near his doorway. The man jumped and stood up to face me. I immediately noticed how tall he was. Larger than Jarl Balgruuf, for sure, and that man was already a head taller than me.

"I assume you're Satyr." he responded brusquely. I nodded, silently thanking Brynjolf for using my alias. "Follow me." The armored Nord led me out of his room and down an adjacent darkened hall, towards a door that I hadn't noticed until then. I couldn't decide if Argis' short temper had to do with my being late or if he was just like that on a normal basis.

"How is Niruin?" I asked quietly as we descended some stairs.

"He attacked an inmate and dragged him down one of the tunnels a couple of days ago. Neither have been seen since."

I felt a twinge of guilt for the man that had been the victim, but Niruin had some blood in him and that was a good thing. Hopefully it wasn't tainted by skooma; I didn't know how I would handle an addicted vampire. "But no trouble besides that? What about the Forsworn?"

Argis stopped suddenly and whirled around, his eyes – one a milky, blinded white – staring at me angrily. "If you want to keep your tongue, I suggest you stop wagging it." I promptly closed my mouth and shot the Nord a blistering glare although he seemed unaffected as he turned around and led both of us further down. The hallway got darker and darker as we continued, and it seemed as if the walls were closing in on us. I heard skittering at one point and flinched when a spider's web brushed against my face. Not much later, we came to a closed wooden door. Argis unlocked it before pulling on the handle. The door's hinges screamed in protest; this was obviously a disused area. As if the sheets of cobwebs we'd waded through on our way down hadn't been indicative enough.

"Go down this corridor. You'll go through some empty Dwemer ruins and then end up in a cavern. Follow it and you'll be in the prison. It shouldn't take you long to find your guild mate."

I peered inside the long hallway. I could see about ten feet ahead of me and then he rest was pitch black. "And how am I supposed to get Niruin out without attracting more attention?" I snapped. "I highly doubt you'll be leaving this door unlocked." Argis shrugged, unconcerned.

"You're a thief. I figured your lockpicking skills would help you. I'm only supposed to get you inside the mine and then out of the city so I can get my payment from Brynjolf." I huffed, crossing my arms.

"All right. I'll meet you back at this door in an hour. Be careful with Niruin. He may not be… mentally stable when we get out." I walked inside the hallway before turning back around. "Thanks for the help."

Argis shrugged and closed the door behind me, leaving me in almost complete darkness. I trudged ahead, keeping one hand on the wall. Shuffling along, I mentally cursed myself for not thinking of bringing torches.

It took me a few more minutes before the darkness began to fade to a gray, and finally to a muted, fluttering gold. I could see the edges of the cavern on either side of me. Mushrooms dotted the ground and walls of the cave, and I had to stop myself from harvesting some of them for potions. Noting that someone had a torch going nearby, I crept silently closer until I came to a barred door that was reminiscent of a prison cell. Testing the door and finding it locked, I pulled out my picks and a small knife. Picking the lock took a lot longer than I would have liked, but I finally undid the latch and gently pushed the door open, the hinges thankfully silent.

I stuck to the shadows as I made my way through the prison. A strange combination of manmade and natural formations, the mine was quite the sight to behold. I passed one older man sitting at a desk with quill and paper (how'd he get all that?), but I slipped past him as I made my way through to the main cavern. Here the ceiling lifted to over three stories tall and was easily as wide as two giants placed end to end. Weak looking wooden structures climbed the walls of the cave, providing the inmates more area from which to mine. It was mostly dark inside the cavity, with the exception with a couple of torches on the far western wall and a small fire dug into the ground not far from where I stood. Ignoring the inmates that sat around the flame and praying their eyes wouldn't turn my way, I concerned myself with finding my guild mate. I was presented with two routes to go at that point, either left or right. I could hear the sound of pickaxes coming from the left cavern; it was the sound of humans working. An eerie, almost unnatural silence emanated from the tunnel in the opposite wall. Knowing Niruin would probably want to avoid people as much as possible to circumvent (more) bloodshed, I made my way over to the darkened tunnel on the right. My guess had been correct, for not even twenty steps inside the cavern, a deep, bone-chilling hiss invaded my ears. I paused in my walking.

"Niruin?"

The hissing stopped after a moment. "…Rysta?" the Bosmer rasped. I rounded a corner and came to a dead end, where I found my guild mate huddled on the ground with a body lying on the opposite side of the cavern. The inmate that had disappeared, I assumed.

"Niruin, I'm here to get you out. Brynjolf sent me." I inched my way closer to my fellow elf. Once I reached his side, I knelt down and attempted to coax him out of the fetal position he had curled himself into. "C'mon, we've got a friend waiting for us at a secret exit. We just have to sneak out. Simple."

Niruin shook his head as he slowly released his legs from the death grip he had them in, as if trying to dispel bad thoughts. "Yeah… easy…" He let me help him to a standing position, his weight leaning heavily against my side. His skin was cold and almost papery as I wrapped one of his arms over my shoulder. His head landed on my collar bone. "Rysta, I smell… blood. You… okay?" Shit. I'd forgotten about the dried blood on my pant leg.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sabre cat got me, that's all. No big deal." I had to get Niruin out of here as quickly as possible. He wasn't going to be in a coherent state for much longer with my blood so close to his nose. Besides, our hour was almost up. We snuck past the other inmates and had just gotten inside the tunnel when Niruin snapped.

I didn't even realize what had happened until it was too late. I felt the sting of the bite, but a combination of not wanting to get caught and paralysis induced by sheer terror kept me from crying out at the sudden pain. I don't know how long Niruin kept his mouth to my neck, but the next thing I knew, I was the one leaning on the Bosmer. Spots danced before my eyes and I lost my footing, collapsing on the ground and breaking contact with Niruin. I could feel blood running down my neck, but it was hard to summon the energy to care. I just wanted to fall into the abyss of sleep. I could barely hear Niruin's desperate apologies, begging me to respond to his pleas. It was a struggle, but I managed to force my eyelids upwards, much to the Bosmer's relief.

"Rysta, I am so, so sorry. You need to keep your eyes open for me, okay? You can kill me later, but I need your help to get us out of here. Rysta, please, I need you to keep your eyes open and _talk to me_." I mumbled a reply that sounded gargled even to my ears, but Niruin must have understood because the next thing I knew, I was being carried through the Dwemer ruins and empty hallway I'd entered minutes before.

Nothing was very clear after that. I remembered the screech of door hinges, raised voices and being handed over to a different person, someone stronger and that smelled of musk with traces of something light and clean. I was strangely comforted by the scent; it reminded me of the soap Sorex used to use. I nuzzled into this new person's armored shoulder, not caring that the iron cuirass was poking my cheek. Everything was hazy and unfocused for a time. It was suddenly brighter and then darker once more. The next thing I remember was being laid down on a bed. Blurred faces and indistinct voices overwhelmed me, and I finally sank into a deep oblivion.

I woke up sometime later feeling lethargic and weak. Opening my eyes, I looked around the unfamiliar room in confusion. Where was this? The room was large, much bigger than anything I'd slept in before, with a stone-and-brass scheme. Dwemer? My bed was stone too, but piled so high with furs and blankets I barely felt the hardness of it. A stone bench and desk were located on the far wall, and a chest sat at the foot of my bed. There weren't any windows, but there was enough light coming from the lamps of varying sizes dotted throughout the room to dispel the gloominess. I wrapped one of the blankets tighter around me as I mentally checked off the last things I remembered. Markarth, Argis, torches, a body, and a guild mate.

Niruin.

My memories came rushing back all at once and I curled in on myself, a high keening suddenly sounding in my ears. It took me a moment to realize that the shrill whine was coming from _my_ mouth. Almost immediately, two pairs of footsteps thundered into the room. I curled into a tighter ball, my hands entrenching themselves in my hair. I suddenly realized my hood was gone.

"Is she all right?" One voice, I figured out was Argis, asked.

"I don't know. She's got a bad history with…" here the heavily accented voice paused. "…with certain people and I think being back in the prison brought those memories to the surface." I had gone silent at this point, listening to this new voice. It wasn't Niruin, although it was very familiar, with a brogue only one person I knew possessed.

"Brynjolf…?" I whimpered quietly, slowly uncurling and turning around to face the redheaded Nord. The man was kneeling next to my bed, a large hand placed comfortingly on my head. Funny, I hadn't felt him touching me. He offered me a small smile.

"Hello, lass," he said softly, pulling his hand back. "Welcome back. We thought you were a goner for a bit there. How do you feel?" I blinked, my brain slowly processing his words.

"Like I've been run over by a herd of mammoths," I replied, making him crack a small smile. "What…" I stopped to clear my throat, noting how dry it was. A cup was pressed into my hands and I drank greedily, pointedly ignoring the ache that action caused. I drained the mug before continuing. "What are you doing here?"

"Niruin sent me a message the same day you collapsed," he explained, searching my eyes intently; trying to tell me something without saying it. "He mentioned you getting into a fight with one of the inmates during his rescue and getting cut on the neck. You lost a lot of blood, but he and Argis got you to a healer in time. I got here yesterday." That's when it clicked. We were keeping Niruin's vampirism a secret. Glancing at Argis and seeing his slightly suspicious stare, I went along with it.

"I'm sorry, Bryn. I know I'm not supposed to kill anyone."

"The rule was set aside for this particular case," he assured me. "We just wanted you back alive." Brynjolf sat back on his heels. "You were unconscious for almost four days. Argis here was nice enough to lend us his home in the city while you recuperated."

Ah, so that's where we were. I looked up at the Nord standing a respectful distance away from the bed I sat on. I offered the man a small, thin smile. "Thank you, Argis." The man in question shrugged and I got a sense of déjà vu.

"It's nothing," he told me in response. "I wouldn't have gotten my payment had I let you die." Argis played it off like it had been no big deal, but the light dusting of pink underneath his tanned skin indicated that money may not have been his only motivation.

"Where's Niruin?" I asked, finally coming to the heart of the matter. Redhead and blonde exchanged a look before Brynjolf turned back to me.

"He went back to Riften, lass. He figured you wouldn't want to see him." And rightfully so. His attack might have been for self-preservation motives only, but the Bosmer's actions had brought back the worst of my memories from the vampire attack on Solitude all those years ago. I struggled to push them away, but they overwhelmed me. I clutched my shoulders – apparently I'd been removed from my armor completely and placed in a plain blue robe – and shook uncontrollably.

"Why wouldn't Rysta want to see him?" Argis asked. My head shot up and I sprung out of the bed, my blood loss causing sudden tunnel vision that left me off-balance. I felt Brynjolf reach out to steady me.

"Who… who told you my name?" I demanded, leaning heavily on my guildmaster. "No one should know my name. They're coming for me now and anyone who knows my name will be found as well." I felt two pairs of eyes stare at me quizzically as I was gently lowered to a sitting position on the bed. I pinched the bridge of my nose took deep breaths.

"Easy there, lass," Brynjolf said, keeping a hand on my shoulder. "Who's coming for you?" I didn't look up, but my shoulders slumped and I released a deep breath.

"Oncano. Oncano knows I'm here, Brynjolf. And if he knows…"

"Every single Thalmor in Skyrim knows, too," he finished for me. The three of us were silent for a moment. Argis was the first to speak.

"I'm assuming you heard about this from the Justiciar that came to court shortly after you arrived." I nodded. "How on Nirn did he get his people on you so quickly? Brynjolf told me you've only been here a few days." I shook my head in response. I had no clue and honestly, I didn't really care. "Why does he want you?"

I lifted my head to stare at him. "I didn't get these from a pure Altmer coupling," I said, pointing to my ears. "I'm the product of a union that the Nelecar clan didn't approve of. I've tainted their lineage. My assumption is that they're trying to kill me to rectify my mother's 'mistake' and cleanse their bloodline." I suddenly realized that my head wasn't covered, and I was unspeakably glad to find that the robe they'd put me in had a hood. "Besides," I added, "I'm dangerous. I've got more magicka reserves than the most powerful Thalmor could ever dream of, and that scares them. They don't like being less than someone, especially a mutt like me." Argis stared at me, stunned while Brynjolf just sat next to me, a hand on my shoulder in a show of support and solidarity. I couldn't begin to express how much that meant to me. I cracked a bitter grin before lying back down on the bed. Brynjolf covered me with a blanket and asked if I needed anything. I sleepily shook my head 'no' and snuggled deeper under the covers. I was exhausted after such an adrenaline rush. I promptly fell back asleep.

I ended up staying at Argis' home for two weeks as I built my strength back up. Brynjolf left three days after I woke up, citing guild matters, but by the look he shot me when he said it I guessed he meant dealing with Niruin. He paid Argis before taking off, a _very_ large sack of gold exchanging hands. I guessed Bryn had upped his payment. That left me and the blond Nord.

Life with Argis was… interesting, to say the least. Our personalities clashed, and more than once we ended up in a shouting match over the most mundane things, like whose job it was to cook dinner. I said it was mine, to express my thanks for housing me. He declared it was his home and thus his job to cook and besides, my cooking was atrocious (I'd used the wrong kind of mushrooms _once_). Those arguments normally ended with me locking myself in my room (the guest bedroom, I'd learned), and Argis storming off to the Silver-Blood Inn for food instead.

After I felt sufficiently better and the local healer deemed me healthy enough to travel, the two of us decided that we'd make our journey back to Whiterun. I needed to see if the Twins had retrieved the Dragon Stone. I told Argis that he didn't have to accompany me and that I was fine on my own, but the large blond Nord insisted. That had spawned another argument, although he eventually won, much to my chagrin. So, the next day saw us on our horses and out into the Reach.

It was the first night of our journey, and Argis and I had settled down in an empty cave to sleep. The nightmares had returned in full force, and I found myself waking up at every sound. At one point, I woke up and saw a ball of light. I blinked and saw the glowing yellow mass flying towards my face, and in my half-awakened state, I did what any person would have done.

I screamed.

* * *

**Whew, I'm back! Let me just start off by saying how sorry I am this chapter took so long. An old knee injury flared up and it's prevented me from doing a lot of things and it threw me into a slump. But I've gotten better these past few days and have written this! Many, many thanks go to MadamHyde and Tae-Kwon-Do Dragon for being fantastic, wonderful chapter betas!**

**My thanks to MadamHyde, OppasYeobo, Aletheya, and a Guest for their extremely helpful reviews last chapter. To Aletheya and MadamHyde, I hope you two see your advice being implemented this go around; I took your constructive criticism to heart and tried to shape this chapter around it- I hope it worked. Now all I need to do is keep it going for the rest of the story! XD**

**Don't forget to review this chapter, too! I respond to every single review I receive, and you get your name listed in my A/Ns! Ain't that spiffy?**

'**Til next time!**


	7. Hiatus Notice

Hey guys, sorry, this isn't a chapter- it's actually a notification of my suspension of this story until further notice.

I lost a lot of chapters when my computer crashed a while back and I never really had the motivation to rewrite them. And then life picked up, and in a big way- I'm currently starring in a new web series called MOBLAND (premiering in March!) and I've gotten several roles as an extra in a variety of TV shows and commercials. Even a couple of movies! So that, along with various illnesses, is why I've chosen to suspend this project until further notice. I am so, so sorry you guys, but I want to be able to write the chapters without having to worry about quality or quantity- you guys only deserve the best. So once everything dies down again, I'll try and get a new chapter out. Thank you for staying with the story for as long as you all did. It truly means a lot to me. -bows-

Kindest regards,

Bella


End file.
